Sherlock Season 4: The Dual of Genius
by DoctorKrisWatson
Summary: What happened after "His Last Vow" in Sherlock Season 3? As we're all stuck in hiatus waiting for Season 4, here is a story to pass the time: Sherlock has gotten off the plane and starts investigating the resurrection of our favorite consulting criminal-Moriarty. But what happens when John finds Sherlock back in his sheet and doesn't want to talk to him. Does Sherlock miss him ?
1. Chapter 1

**1**

"You know, I don't think I said this yet but it's good to have you back."

Sherlock stared at his computer screen. Lightly he licked his bottom lip as his pupils darted around the image projecting into his powder blue irises. An image John continued to look at through Sherlock's vision waiting for his answer. Sherlock tapped his fingertips gently on the keyboard. A cold cup of tea sat to his right. It wasn't satisfying him. He needed something stronger than tea.

"Are you going to be a mute now or are you going to talk to me?" John asked heavily. He was sitting in his favourite chair across from where Sherlock was sitting at his desk. He was pretending to read the paper that he forced his eyes to focus on but it only made him look more into Sherlock's eyes for an answer. He hadn't spoken to him since he landed from the plane.

Actually that wasn't entirely true. Sherlock had said Mary and John's name as he climbed down the steps but none of them could hear him from the blare of the engine. He had smiled as his blue scarf blew furiously in the wind as it swatted at his porcelain face. His curly, dark hair half concealed his eyes that showcased the relief and overwhelming happiness he was feeling to be back on the ground and to see John again. But, the one time he temporarily let his guard down and revealed any emotion was when John couldn't see it because of the harsh wind and there distance from each other.

As the engine died down Sherlock let out a loud sigh. He was approaching Mary and John with great haste. He was contemplating on how to greet John either with a smart remark or sarcasm while John was preparing to chastise Sherlock for not giving him a more heartfelt farewell to then have him reply with knowing he wasn't flying off into exile because he was so clever in knowing everything.

Suddenly, Mycroft's black umbrella sprung up into the sky. He had opened it to get Sherlock's attention and had noticed it was beginning to sprinkle rain. At the exact moment right, before Sherlock was in talking distance with John, the black object had caught his eye. He stopped.

Sherlock looked over at John and Mary, who were ready to embrace him, to Mycroft in his usual black suit and tie. His pointed nose was up and his expression was calm. Though, it held a possible hint of alarm. It was Mycroft's sign. He was sending him a desperate stare and an arched eyebrow which was his way of letting his brother know they needed to talk. And Mycroft knew his brother would choose him over his friends. He seriously needed him right now.

With a regretful glance, Sherlock gave John and Mary a slight wave of his hand and climbed into the already opened door to the back seat. Mycroft closed his umbrella and climbed in after him. The only words John had heard from Mycroft while they had started walked up to the vehicle were, "It seems someone has missed you Sherlock."

Seconds later the wheels started to smoke and the vehicle had charged forward, driving away from the plane. Wanting to say something to Sherlock, the two of them were left standing in a cloud of dust with no happy greeting. John, feeling left out and utterly surprised that they wouldn't include him, walked out of the airport with his wife. Hand in hand.

John waited and stayed with Mary for the rest of the night, knowing Sherlock would be busy with his brother. But, he couldn't get his best friend out of his mind. He tossed and turned profusely, thinking about sending him a text as he glanced back at Mary not wanting to disturb her. His cell phone sat on his bed side table, tempting him to text. Hesitating, John extended his hand over to the electronic device. Hovering over the object, John decided last minute to just leave Sherlock alone. It wasn't as if he was important to him anyway, or else he would be running with him all over England to find out where Moriarty was or at least know what Mycroft had told Sherlock. No, he didn't need him right now. John went back to his restless sleep.

Almost a full 24 hours later John arrived at 221B Baker Street. He knocked at the door, staring at the brass letters above him. He had hoped Sherlock would have texted him by now but thought better to go and see him at their flat. No answer. Not even Mrs. Hudson came to the door...then again it was really late.

It was no surprise that once Watson opened the door, which he found wasn't locked, he found his friend on his computer in the dark. And he was in a white sheet. That was what Sherlock did—stupid and weird things. But after speaking with his brother about Moriarty? Why get back into his sheet.

John tried to speak with him but he didn't answer. Since then, John's attempts to get Sherlock to talk were unsuccessful.

"Are you going to tell me what he told you?"

Sherlock continued to stay silent. His hands had left the keyboard and now were stuck together in his popular position under his chin. His eyes never left the screen.

John was like a broken record, repeating the same questions he had been attempting to receive answers for. Even twisting the questions around wasn't working.

"Well, I already told you what he told me. That Moriarty was back and what he did throughout England. I assume Mycroft told you that too?"

Sherlock nodded. It was the first acknowledgment over the past few hours that John had been patiently waiting through. John had no idea why Sherlock was acting this way. He was angry that he wouldn't speak to him, especially since he had previously said good-bye and the emotions from all of that were at the time difficult to bear. But John decided to keep calm about this. It was Sherlock after all. He would continue to stay as long as he could before being ignored got to him. He was almost as stubborn has Sherlock. He could play this game.

John knew something was wrong with Sherlock. He knew Sherlock too well and this should be an exciting new case for him. To figure out how Moriarty resurrected after blowing his brains out was definitely a case worthy for his genius. Sherlock would have already figured out all the possibilities of Moriarty being alive and he would want to show them off to John with a huge monologue and then go and prove one of them was right. Oddly enough, Sherlock was not responding to the news the way he had thought.

"Did you figure it out?" John whispered. Sitting in the dim light of the flat made him anxious. He wanted Sherlock to provide him with an answer or he wasn't going to be still anymore. Sherlock was pissing him off and soon he was going to grab the skull on top of the mantle and throw it at his head. Maybe bust a cheekbone if he aims for it.

"I don't understand." The words seeped from Sherlock's dry lips. It had a haunting sound as if he were being deprived from living. His voice sounded like it had been unused for a long time. His face was white like the sheet he had shrouded himself in. His hands broke from their position as he ruffled his hair with a frustrated scratch. He had not eaten since John found him and concern for his health was diminishing the former anger in John's mind. He had just noticed that Sherlock's fingers were looking a little boner than usual. He was definitely not well.

Sherlock was repeating a motion with his finger on the mouse pad of his computer. What John didn't know was that he was rewinding the video Moriarty had broadcasted all over England. He had been observing it and deducing what the message had meant and why Moriarty had used this form of communication. He was rewinding Moriarty's bored smirk to then watch it form into his creepy, sinister smile. Of course Sherlock had come up with multiple ideas for what it all meant but something was troubling him. Something he hadn't realized he had done back on top of that roof top. It was something he was afraid to tell John.

John rose from his chair.

"You spoke?"

"You act like it's unnatural for me to speak when it's the complete opposite. You know I can talk for days on end or just be in complete silence while being oblivious to what you're doing." Sherlock remarked on his own behaviour.

"That's what I mean. You're usually oblivious to me when you become silent like this but the difference is you aren't."

The whites of Sherlock's eyes slightly widened for a few seconds as he realized John was right. But, they faded back to normal once he revealed a small smile at his colleague who he shared his utmost respect for. He was one of few who could outsmart him.

"Something's wrong Sherlock. I mean it's disturbing to think that the consulting criminal is back from the dead but to see you like this..."

"Like you haven't seen me like this before."

"No I haven't!" John angrily threw his newspaper down on Sherlock's desk. He pointed his finger at his face and stared hard at him so that he could get his attention. "There's something wrong and you're not telling me."

John flicked the computer screen down. He was tired of Sherlock's games. He grabbed a chair and planted it right across from Sherlock. He plunked down making sure he was directly across from him and waited.

"Well go on now you don't have any distractions. Tell me what's wrong."

Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"You know I can just leave."

"Oh I thought you would say that. Go ahead Sherlock. Get up."

Sherlock hesitated. He sent John an arched eyebrow and bent over the table slowly so he could see under it. There he found Watson's foot securely holding down his white sheet. Sherlock brought himself back up to find Watson giving him a faint smile underneath his tempered scowl.

"Using Mycroft's tricks are we?"

"Well he did know you best."

Watson's smile faded and his face fell dark. He crossed his arms and motioned with his head for Sherlock to begin explaining himself.

Sherlock sighed. He ran his fingertips over his face and rubbed his temples.

"Why are you making me do this John?"

"Just admit that you need to take care of yourself."

Sherlock sat up straight with a confused facial expression.

"What?"

"Just admit that you need to eat, bathe and have a rest and I'll let go of your sheet."

"Is that really it?" Sherlock asked cautiously.

"Yes what else would I want? I'm a doctor and I know you're sick so just admit it already."

Sherlock scoffed. He thought John wanted him to reveal what he secretly did not want to tell him.

"Okay I need to take care of myself, there, are you happy?"

He went to stand when John took hold of his sheet harder. The cloth around his chest began to let go and Sherlock quickly grabbed hold of it. Startled, Sherlock glared at John who was smiling from ear to ear.

"Oh you know what I really want to hear. Now tell me what's bothering you."

Defeated, Sherlock sat back down roughly in his seat, causing his tea to shake inside the cup.

"I knew there was more."

"Of course there was." John agreed playfully.

"You know I could lie to you."

"I know and I will be able to identify it."

"No you can't."

"Really, after what you said before jumping off of St. Bart's hospital..." Watson gave him a stern look. "Try me."

Sherlock could no longer keep his secret hidden. John needs to know eventually but this wasn't the time that Sherlock wanted to tell him. He wanted it to be over a dead body or even with Anderson's face in the background to distract him. But here, with John insisting on him to spill the beans or whatever they call it, Sherlock had no choice.

"Alright John, I'll tell you."

"Will you really?"

Sherlock nodded.

"Well get on with it then you need to eat something before bed."

John glanced out the window noticing how dark it was.

Sherlock started to get comfortable as he adjusted his sheet. His left shoulder was suddenly revealed as the grip from Watson's foot made it collapse from around his neck. A portion of a nicotine patch caught John's eye.

"What is that?"

"What's what?"

Before Sherlock could react, Watson sprung up and grabbed hold of Sherlock's sheet.

"I thought you were concerned with people seeing one of us ripping off the other person's clothes?"

"Oh shut up!"

With a gasp, John had only removed enough of Sherlock's sheet to see the ten nicotine patches along his chest.

"Sherlock! What the hell were you thinking?"

"Tea wasn't strong enough." Sherlock responded tiredly pointing at the cold tea. "I needed to think."

"THINK! Sherlock you can seriously harm yourself with that much nicotine at once. What am I going to do with you?" John grabbed a patch and ripped it off.

"Hey! That hurt."

"I'll hurt you much worse than that if you do this again." John threatened. "Your limit is four Sherlock. Just four." He finished ripping off the remaining five, leaving Sherlock with six pink, circle marks on his body, and sat back down.

"Now then, you were saying."

"There were snipers John..."

"What?"

John's faced contorted with confusion and surprise. He looked out the window and behind his chair thinking Sherlock meant there were snipers in this room. He turned back around.

"No, I mean when I told you about Moriarty killing himself on top of the roof of St. Bart's hospital and then I jumped off to make it look like I had killed myself to go along with his game there were snipers..."

"Yes I know you were threatened you already tol..."

"No John, snipers at you."

John closed his mouth and just stared at him in shock. Sherlock looked away from him as he continued.

"There was one on Lestrade, Mrs. Hudson and you. I never mentioned it because I didn't want you to know that they would have killed you if not for me...you know."

"Bullshit."

Sherlock's eyes looked at John in surprise.

"Complete and udder bullshit. You didn't want to tell me that you saved our lives because it would mean that you cared. Human error I think you call it." John said sharply.

Sherlock gulped hard and cleared his throat.

"Well yes...exactly."

"Ummhmm." John murmured. "Anything else I need to know?"

"That's what I'm trying to say John. I didn't just have a human error with caring for...my friends. I had an error with myself. A mistake. A loose wire or whatever."

"You know I was joking when I called you a machine." John smiled lightly.

"The point is John that by caring about everyone I was able to pull off my fake death, but in the midst of Moriarty killing himself on that roof top I was so consumed in worrying about your lives I didn't observe his death clearly. I took in his gun and the way he fell and the way he shot himself but when I knew that my plan wasn't complete until I jumped I ignored Moriarty and finished operation Lazarus by jumping off that building. Of course you had to see it so it could give Mycroft's men enough time to shoot the snipers and make sure you were save. The bottom line is I have no idea how Moriarty killed himself. I didn't observe it long enough. It could have been the piece I needed to figure this out. That's why I am doing this to myself Watson. I needed to be at my worst to be at my best."

Sherlock put his head down on the table. John sat there baffled for a moment, unsure of what to say.

He ran his hand through his blond and silver hair and then rubbed his nose. He planted his two feet firmly on the carpet and hung his head while he thought.

Suddenly, Watson slapped both of his knee caps and jumped up from his chair.

"Look Sherlock, it doesn't matter if you didn't observe Moriarty's death."

"Go away John." Sherlock mumbled. He grabbed his sheet and wrapped himself in it, covering his chest.

"I'm not going in there after you. You have to get up and pull yourself together. I know you. Go into your mind palace you'll figure it out."

"Uhhhh."

"Oh come on. You can figure out from the video where he is and what he is doing right?"

"Of course. I know where he shot the video by the background from the film, I know he was somewhere else recording his voice while he used the image of himself in a studio so that his voice didn't exactly match his lips because it was a recording to make us believe that he wasn't actually back from the dead but that he used an old recording, or should I say someone else to use a recording to take us off his track and make us think someone else was trying to get our attention, a new villain to his story, who knows, but no I can see through it, the way he dressed himself in that video showed he had been traveling across the globe. The wrinkles on his shirt, presumably rebuilding his empire, or it had never been demolished and he's just making us think that it was, and how he changed his voice like that he wants us to find him and he wanted to come back into the media with a bang because he's the king that holds the key to the world. He wants to make it clear he has power. He created Richard Brooke to destroy my reputation but no...no he used Richard Brooke, a twin brother maybe? No he wanted us to think there were possibly two of them and that Richard Brooke killed himself since there was a body and that Moriarty was alive or the other way around but no thinking back to what I did observe I WAS with Moriarty on that roof top...and he did shoot himself."

John just sat there with widened eyes but with an expected expression of how Sherlock would perform.

"So Moriarty is dead?"

"No...but Richard Brooke is."

"I don't understand. How is that possible?"

"Oh John can't you see it. He had a split personality. He killed Richard Brooke in his mind by pretending to kill himself. It was a real gun that he had but he didn't take the shot. He threw the gun and the blood spilled from the back of his head not the top. He faked his death on that rooftop but at the same time he had someone shoot at close range to make it sound like he killed himself and by doing that he killed his identity and now has come back from the dead to scare everyone...why?"

"I thought you said you couldn't solve it?"

"I needed your help John. I couldn't do it alone."

"Wait a minute!" John shouted, getting up off his chair. "You didn't eat, bathe or sleep because you knew I would notice and by telling that heartfelt story you would solve it."

"Not all of it but most of it thanks again John." Sherlock smiled and got up, wrapping his sheet and passing by Watson with a huge grin.

"So we have to figure out why he's doing this?"

"Precisely. He's given my enough information with your help and I think we can find him John. I just really needed you to help me it keeps me focused. "

"But, you forgot one thing."

Sherlock stopped.

"And what's that?"

"My reaction!" John yelled. He tackled Sherlock to the ground.

"John I'm not wearing anything!"

"I don't give a damn!"

The sheet fell off and Sherlock was wearing grey sweat pants underneath.

"The sheet was bulging too much I knew you were wearing something under their Sherlock."

"Oh get off!" Sherlock said dryly as they both began to laugh trying to get out of the white sheet but seemed to get tangled up into it.

"Oh dear me!" A voice chimed with shock from the kitchen.

Sherlock and Watson's heads popped up from within the white sheet on the floor.

"Mrs. Hudson what are you doing here?"

"You have a visitor did you not hear the knocking? And please don't do that when we have company it's indecent. You can do it on your own time."

"I'm not taking clients or visitors I'm on a case. And it's the best one yet so I really don't want any distractions."

"We don't do anything ever Mrs. Hudson!" John barked. "I'm married remember?"

"That doesn't stop them." Mrs. Hudson called descending the stairs. "And Sherlock just be nice."

John jumped up off the floor. Sherlock followed by struggling to his feet. He had trouble avoiding tripping over the white fabric. Once he was up Sherlock reached over and grabbed a t-shirt to cover his bare skin.

"We'll be right there." John shouted telling Sherlock with his eyes to hurry the hell up.

Fully dressed and finished laughing they both slowly walked into the living room.

To their surprise a thin woman was sitting on Sherlock's chair looking at his skull.


	2. Chapter 2

**~Author's note~**

**To those of you who had followed this story a year ago, I will now be finishing it **** YAY! I know it's been more than a year but I have been really busy with life and have now come across some time to write some FanFiction (as well as the recent exciting clip from the Sherlock Christmas special that created a hidden inspiration) so without further or do enjoy!**

2

"I'm not taking any cases right now. I'll have to ask you to leave." Sherlock rudely pointed out with a thick tone lathered with annoyance as he bent down and snatched up his sheet. He curled the white fabric into a ball and brought it over to his computer, where he threw it down beside him. He sat down rather roughly and brought the laptop back to life by lifting the screen up. John let out a irritated sigh.

"Sherlock, don't be so rude. We have a guest."

"I don't want a guest."

John sighed and rolled his eyes. He looked over at the woman, who continued to sit on the chair and stare at the skull, and took a seat in front of her. "Don't mind my colleague; he's been through some very traumatic events throughout the last 48 hours," John mentioned calmly to the woman.

"I wouldn't have used 'traumatic.' More like 'intrigue'; that's the word I would have chosen," The woman replied. She spoke with a soothing, contagious tone. Her hands rested firmly in her lab as her lime green pupils never left their direct stare on the skull. The artifact had captured her attention more than the detective. She wore a hideous yellow sweater with a plain grey skirt. She wore worn sneakers, tattered socks and had shiny, long black hair that fell past her shoulders. She was young by her appearance because of her choice in youthful attire and also by her beaming complexion, but she definitely held a strong maturity. She was definitely a bit older than her outfit had suggested.

"Why intrigue?" Sherlock asked from his laptop screen. His eyes glanced over at the woman briefly and then back to the screen. Her unexpected choice of words had only caught Sherlock's attention for a mere second. The question happened to slip out as his attention was now fully on the computer.

"It's not a question of 'why?' it's a question of 'how?' Moriarty's sudden appearance has surprised you?" At this point, the woman had turned around in Sherlock's chair where she now faced him comfortably. Her crossed legs slightly moved as if she was lightly tapping the air.

"I don't see why he has anything to do with your cat?"

"My cat?" The woman asked with a small smile.

"Of course your cat. The small claw marks on the front of your dandelion sweater suggests that your cat is quick tempered, aggressive. There are remnants of fur on the back of your sweater where you sit on your fur littered surface and your cat sits in your lap. The cat is white by the colour of the fur. The smudge of cat feces on you sneaker means you and your cat live in small living courters. I smell a hint of food decay which suggests that you live behind a dumpster where your cat tends to attack your sweater thinking that it's a ball of yarn because of its lack of cat toys and that fact that a maggot is climbing up your sock at this very moment. Maggots suggest rotting food and rotting food points to garbage. You woke up this morning, realized the familiar warmth of your cat sitting in your lap as you rest your head on a wall in an alleyway was missing and so you came here to ask for my help. But, you see, I don't deal with missing cats. Put an ad out or ask around. If you're here about the homeless network I created, since you mentioned a very important topic where I might need you, I decline your services. My homeless network is flourishing. Am I right?"

The woman, not even a bit surprised, shook her head. Of course, at that very instant, Sherlock's head shot up.

"No? Which one was wrong?"

"Both."

"No. One of them is right you just don't want to admit it," Sherlock teased as he closed the top of his laptop down slowly and watched the woman's expression.

"Try again Mr. Holmes."

Sherlock held onto his chin quickly. His eyes darted around the room as he took a moment to sit in silence and think. John watched from his chair as he saw Sherlock's face contort in his usual strange mannerisms. He was thinking hard but no other conclusion was coming to him. The woman momentarily looked at John with an arched eyebrow.

"You put up with this one?"

John was taken back for a moment, but was quite pleased with the woman's words. He nodded and made a small snort as they both turned and looked over at Sherlock. He was still looking around as if searching for an answer.

"I'm sorry your name?" John asked suspiciously.

"Kay."

"Okay what?"

"No John, my name is Kay."

"Oh, is that spelt..."

John was interrupted by a loud creaking noise. He turned and saw that Sherlock rose from his seat and had caused the table legs to angrily rub against the wood floor, causing an annoying sound to occur to interrupt John's sentence. His eyes were now directly on Kay sitting in front of him. She relaxed her muscles and sat back more in his chair.

"Who are you?" Sherlock demanded.

"Apparently I'm a homeless, dirty cat lover in your eyes, Mr. Holmes," Kay stated obviously as John suddenly rose from his seat.

"Tea Kay?" John asked nervously, seeing Sherlock's expression.

"Two lumps will do me just fine."

Sherlock slowly made his way around the table as John walked into the kitchen. John would keep looking up at the two of them from whatever he was doing as he prepared some tea for their guest. He wanted to keep track at what the two were going to be talking about.

"Who are you really?" Sherlock insisted eagerly.

"You know, Mr. Holmes, I don't reveal myself to just anyone. That is why for you I am the image of a homeless cat lady, while I am a different image for others."

"Performer? Multiple identities?" Sherlock questioned with a hint of anticipation.

"More like a secret."

"Hmm, sounds rather boring," Sherlock admitted, beginning to leave when she caught his arm. Sherlock looked down and she immediately read the expression on his face.

"Sorry, just grabbing your attention, as you can observe there are no affections towards you so I would not like to discuss unimportant content. Is that understood?" Sherlock nodded. "I don't like wasting my time."

"Neither do I."

"Then we agree," she released his arm and grabbed his hand, giving a firm shake. "Kay Towers, Mr. Holmes. And it depends on what the secret is about. Don't be so quick to deduce something to be observantly boring when in actuality it could be extremely interesting." She then headed straight for the bathroom and snagged a towel on the way, and before John or Sherlock could say another word, she went straight to the shower and closed the door.

John's face blew up with astonishment, while Sherlock shrugged his shoulders and walked straight towards his room. He appeared back into the kitchen with a pair of baggy sweatpants and one of John's old sweaters. Sherlock then opened the door slowly, placed the clothes on the floor of the bathroom and proceeded to close the door behind him.

"What in God's name was that?" John asked frustrated. "She just walked in there without saying a word. Who does that?"

"Me."

John eyed Sherlock and a tiny grin appeared at the corner of his mouth. Intrigue and mystery rolled about on his lips as he moistened them with his tongue. They both stood in the kitchen, waiting for the moment when the woman they had just met would appear from outside of their bathroom. Sherlock sat with his back to the door and tips of his fingertips touching the bottom of his chin in his familiar thinking position as John finished making the tea. He placed the tea pot and two cups on the table.

Seconds later, the thin woman emerged from the bathroom, wringing out her hair in a towel as she walked over to her tea cup and began drinking some. She was wearing the clothes Sherlock had given her.

"So, I suppose you have observed the fact that I used other portions of clothes from different charity drop offs to lead you off my track. I also don't do anything in the nude like your female friend, so I concluded you would offer clothing since I am a woman and that is the most decent thing to do. Especially since my clothes were so revolting," Kay cleverly said as she looked at John and took a long sip of tea. All you could see were those lime iris's staring out from the rim of the tea cup.

"It wasn't too difficult," Sherlock answered coldly.

"Well, good then tell me why I am here, Mr. Holmes." Kay asked. She turned around and walked back into the living room. She went over to Sherlock's lap top and turned it on by flipping open the top.

"You're just going to let her do that?" John asked with surprise. He sipped his tea and continued to watch Kay.

"Of course, she needs to get what she came here for."

"I did not come here for your information on Moriarty, Mr. Holmes. Nor did I come here to see the video I have seen far too many times. No, I have come here to help you."

John choked on some of his tea.

"Help Sherlock Holmes? With what? He doesn't need any help."

"Coming from his blogger that gives him the motivation, admiration, and companion ship that Sherlock craves? Clearly he doesn't need any help. No, I'm talking about specific help," Kay answered sweetly.

"And what 'specific' help are you offering to me. Some sort of bargain? It must be why you're here. You have information you want to use to help protect you, right? I've seen this before you're getting boring again."

"Sorry to disappoint, but no. I already have protection. And I do have information but I wasn't going to give it to you. No, I came here because I wanted to meet you. I came here because I figured you would want to meet me as you have been searching for me for quite some time. I decided it was time to finally show myself."

"I'm sorry?" Sherlock questioned.

"I just didn't want you see the real me which was why I used the disguise. It was sort of fun wasn't it? A homeless, cat lover that one I was definitely have to keep in mind for another time."

"Why would I be searching for you? I just met you. I never even knew you existed," Sherlock argued.

"You knew I existed, but I think you thought of it more in the literal and not metaphorical sense. I suppose literal is the first thing you think of..."

Kay let her words trail off as she turned her back and Sherlock and peeked outside of the window at their flat. It was soon going to be dawn. They had stayed up for the majority of the night.

"You know Kay; I think we should do this another time. I want to head off to bed. You know, work in the morning and all I..."

"Head off to bed then."

Sherlock cut John off. John, miffed at being interrupted, just glared at Sherlock from his tea cup. "What are you doing just get her out of here," John whispered. "Not until I know who she is."

"Come on Mr. Holmes, it really isn't that difficult to conclude. If you think back, in a time in your life, you once were searching for something. Something that risked your life to the point that suicide was almost an option." At that very second, Kay dropped her tea cup to the wooden floor gracefully and allowed the broken pieces to shatter beneath her feet.

"Now that you have figured it out and I demonstrated that with the smashing of the tea cup, why don't you conclude what I have hinted at you to John, Mr. Holmes," Kay didn't bother to turn around as the image of Sherlock's face contorting with disbelief, shone behind her like a blazing light bulb recently turned on by the hand that had flipped the switch. The hand happened to belong to Kay Towers.

"Who is she Sherlock?" John stammered to ask as he had been shaken up by the tea cup smashing to the floor. Tea was now all over Sherlock's sweat pants and now slithered along the wood towards Sherlock's shoes. The sound of running feet up their staircase appeared as Mr. Hudson opened the door as quickly as she could.

"What happened? I heard the smash from downstairs? You should all be getting some sleep for God's sake then scaring a poor old woman like that."

Sherlock stood in silence for a few more seconds as Mrs. Hudson's eyes went around the room at everyone. Kay's back was still to all of them as she pressed her hand against the window, staring into her own reflection as she saw behind her the clever detective flutter his eye lids and bring his mind back from his mind palace and to what was happening around him.

"Is anyone going to answer me?" Mrs. Hudson asked alarmed as everyone in the room still wasn't moving or turning to look at her. The only one eyeing Mrs. Hudson was John. He glanced over at her with a confused expression, when Sherlock took a step forward into the puddle of tea, soaking his shoe.

"You're the key. His key."

Kay spun around on her heel and sent Sherlock a mischievous smile.

"In the flesh."

"In a world of locked rooms..." Sherlock began, quoting Moriarty from one of their encounters. But before he could finish, Kay took a step forward saying, "The man with the key is king."


	3. Chapter 3

**~Author's note~**

**Hello, everyone! I hope I didn't leave you waiting too long *ahem a few months* sorry about that I've still been juggling work and school. I do, however, want to make a habit of writing more frequently. I hope to write a Chapter every 2 weeks, but we will have to see so, with the news of Season 4 to begin filming in 2016, I give you my next chapter.**

3

"I now have Moriarty's key, so what? What use are you to me? I destroyed Moriarty's network, why would you just show up without needing anything? Is that revenge I'm sensing?"

"I wouldn't call it revenge, Mr. Holmes. I don't want to hurt him. I want to know how far he would go," Kay answered simply. She carefully picked up the broken teacup pieces and brought them over to the kitchen and placed them in their garbage bin. John had stepped outside of the flat momentarily to calm down Mrs. Hudson and guide her back downstairs to bed. Sherlock needed to be alone with Kay.

"Obviously, it must bother you, hmm? Wasting all those years breaking down his network just so he could come back on top; it must be aggravating. And I'm not saying that to get your opinion I'm just pointing it out. I would certainly be a tad perturbed."

Sherlock gazed at the woman standing in his kitchen. Her thin figure could barely hold up the baggy clothes to her body. He watched as she reached for another teacup and placed it delicately on the counter and poured herself another cup of tea.

"Don't worry, I won't intentionally break it this time."

"I'm not worried."

Sherlock rubbed his chin and lightly paced the room. His gaze continued to situate on the mysterious woman who still wasn't making any sense. She is his key. The key. She can open anywhere in London and take whatever she wants. Why come here trying to impress Sherlock?

"Why are you so interested in knowing about how I _feel _after destroying his network? You're not a reporter, clearly, so why the urge to know an answer?" Sherlock asked impatiently. He abruptly sat down on his leather chair and pondered the question further as he waited. Slowly, she turned the spoon around in her teacup as she mixed the sugar and milk together. Carefully, she took hold of the handle and made her way over to Sherlock, sitting across from him. She took a small sip and sighed.

"I just needed to know."

"Why? Why would someone like you care? Someone who has so much power working for a psychopath wouldn't have feelings," Sherlock admitted dryly.

"Because you wasted all those years..."

"They weren't wasted."

"But they were. I am Moriarty's network and you didn't destroy me."

Sherlock's face erupted with shock and then fell into complete stillness as he stared calmly back.

"What you do not understand Sherlock is that I came here to help you. I had to put up with his craziness until you came along because you're someone who can challenge him. We all eventually get bored Sherlock and I am tired of being able to do everything. It's too boring..."

"Why would I trust you, let alone believe you?" Sherlock hissed.

"I think of all people, Mr. Holmes, you would understand. You can trust my word or you can let me die. I have protection but only to an extent. I've run away from him and his countdown has already started."

"What do you mean?"

"I want to see how far I can push his limit...everyone has a limit. I'm his. John is yours."

At this moment, John opened the door and poked his head in.

"Everything okay, Sherlock?"

"Yes, fine John. Do we need any more milk?"

"Nope...nope you're not doing this to me again. I'm listening to this conversation too," John stated as quickly came in and closed the door behind him. He made his way over to the couch and roughly sat down as he crossed his arms. "So, what did I miss?"

"There always was a key and now, apparently, the key has gotten bored of having power," Sherlock directed at John, keeping his eyes on Kay. "But, the key needs a brilliant mind to challenge Moriarty to make sure she isn't bored anymore. So, really, I'm helping Kay with her clever mind not going stale rather than she helping us; which is why I decline."

Sherlock had begun to move up out of the chair when Kay stopped him with three words.

"He's my brother."

"He's your what? Who's your brother?" John asked curiously.

Slowly, Sherlock sat back down.

"He's your brother?"

Kay nodded.

"He warned me. He knew we both had clever minds so he had made me his key. Gave me all the codes, access, everything. I can do anything at any time. But, at a price. I had to help him. It was fine at first because I really didn't care, but now I'm bored. We all get like that eventually. So he gave me a choice. Either be the key or he would plan multiple clever deaths to finish me. Of course, I was up for the challenge no doubt. But, I wanted to wait until I found you. Not because I want to live but because the game is getting a lot more interesting and I want to see if you can solve them. I might not be able to if I'm dying..."

"So I'm helping you?"

"No, I'm helping you with your boredom. My protection will most likely solve my murders, but I want to see if you can solve them. You also need a way of finding him, right? Why not have his sister around?"

"You wouldn't just die you're too clever for that," Sherlock commented.

"Not if I wanted to prove how clever I really was. I've repeated myself already Sherlock and have said that we all get bored. You've been there, I remember. I had hired that cabbie. Honestly, if you don't believe me I'll walk out of here. Again my protection is limited so I'm not sure how far they will go. I'm offering this from one clever person to another. Boredom is dreadful."

Sherlock stayed silent as John muttered with disbelief under his breath. He still couldn't understand how Moriarty's sister was sitting with them in their flat, and offering Sherlock a chance to save her life first.

"Come on, you must be curious to know what he has planned for me. Can you solve it before I die? You solve murders after they take place all the time so why not try and solve it before it happens?"

Sherlock rose from his seat.

"Solve your death yourself. I have more important things at hand," he said angrily. Sherlock left the living room and came back wearing his sweatpants and shirt. He walked to the door and opened it, motioning for Kay to leave the flat. "I'm sorry, but that does sound rather extreme Kay," John admitted, watching Sherlock grow more and more irritated as he waited. "I mean, you don't even mind the fact that your brother is trying to kill you?"

"He knows how important I am," Kay answered sweetly. "And being in the wrong hands allows anyone to be as powerful as he is. This is why he has to get rid of me. I just wanted to see if Sherlock could do it, but clearly he isn't up for the challenge. That's fine."

She climbed out of the leather chair and placed her teacup on the kitchen counter. Quickly, she snatched an apple that was sitting in a bowl and took a quick bite. She looked over her shoulder to see John's expression as Sherlock impatiently waited for her to leave as he held the door open for her.

"Obviously, Sherlock is up for any challenge, but this is too crazy even for him."

"Nothing is too crazy for me."

"Well, Mr. Watson, It's not like I had a choice or anything. He would have done it anyway, whether I was clever or not. I'll just figure them out as I go along. I would have had to stop being his key eventually. Thank you for the short hospitality Mr. Holmes and good luck stopping him."

Kay took one step out the doorway when her leg collapsed from beneath her. She crumpled down slowly as she breathed heavily through her nose.

"Kay! Kay can you hear me!" John shouted as he slammed his knee caps to the ground and examined her immediately. His voice became small. "Sherlock, Sherlock her breathing is getting slower."

"Oh please, this is just an act."

John sent him a hard glare, holding Kay's wrist as her body lightly shook.

"For God's sake Sherlock, she is dying. Call an ambulance."

He glanced down quickly at her widened eyes. She looked so pathetic; nothing like the strong, confident woman who had declared how clever he was. But she wasn't scared. She stared deeply into his eyes like she knew he would save her. And she was right. Compassion was always a human error in Sherlock. I mean, he has John for a reason right?

"She's been poisoned."

"What? How do you know?" John asked breathlessly as he checked her vital signs and was dialing the phone since Sherlock hadn't moved from his stance.

"The apples. You bought them at the market this morning, right?"

"Get to the point Sherlock. What do the apples have to do with it?" John shouted exasperated.

"An older woman served you, didn't she?"

"I'm going to hurt you. I am literally going to hurt you. A woman is dying beneath you and all you can think about are apples."

"Oh...oh he is good," Sherlock declared with a mischievous smile. He placed his hands on his forehead and afterwards grabbed out his phone. He peered down at Kay and saw that she was smiling too. She had figured it out too.

"Oh, he really likes his fairytales."

"It's his thing," Kay sputtered. She let out a loud groan and then went still.

"Nope, sorry Kay but you can't die. Not now that things are starting to get interesting," Sherlock announced. He ran over to John's side, bent down, and picked Kay up into his arms.

"She's Snow White John, don't you get it? His first death attempt was a poisoned apple and from what I've observed she has about seven minutes. Hurry!"

Sherlock ran down the stairs with Kay steadily in his arms. John, stumbling behind, tried to keep up with him. "How are we going to make it? We only have seven minutes Sherlock! Seven!" John called out behind him.

Swiftly, Sherlock flew down the stairs and was now tearing down the sidewalk picking up more speed. John was keeping up a foot behind. "Exactly, John!" Sherlock yelled. "Seven dwarves. Seven minutes. Oh, he is clever. "

Sherlock's eyes darted with excitement. Kay's eyes were closed and she had lost consciousness in his arms. Looking down at her, Sherlock had a sudden urgency in his run.

"And here you are. The fairest of them all. Moriarty's key dying in my arms and If I wanted to I could just let you die."

Sherlock's smile widened.

"But that wouldn't be any fun, now would it princess?" Sherlock asked between heavy breaths.

"Not when the game has just begun."


End file.
